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I supposed that Svitlana might have reason not to want too much intimacy with my come. She’d made choices that had meant that for the last few years she hadn’t had much to do with cocks. So she might have reservations about some of the penile by-products. I just didn’t know.

But she’d said, “Why?” As in, “why should I swallow your come?”

She might have been bratting, but then again she might not. I took the boring approach, and treated the question seriously.

“Okay. One thing is that if you spit it out, it looks like rejection. That’s why there’s so much emotion invested in it. Well, male emotion anyway. Even I might think it was faintly, only a bit, hurtful if you spit that mouthful you have, right now. I’d only feel it for a second or two, but there it is. If you really don’t want to swallow, that’s more important. You shouldn’t do anything you don’t want, but that’s why we think it matters. Also, we like it when -“

Svitlana said, “We? Who’s ‘we’?” She said this carefully, her mouthful still in an indeterminate state, neither swallowed nor spat. Like Shroedinger’s cat’s come.

Glamorous redhead. Not Svitlana, though..

“Well, men. Or doms. Or maybe I just mean me. I like it when you – meaning women, especially glamorous semi-dyke redheads in my bed -“

I’d never discussed the question of whether a woman should swallow my come before. In my experience till then most women had simply swallowed.

Women who aren’t submissive, or weren’t being submissive in bed with me, had generally swallowed. If they didn’t like having come in their mouths, they generally hadn’t sucked my cock. It had happened a couple of times that a woman had spat out my come, but they’d done it into tissues, and neither she nor I had made any fuss about it. If they weren’t submitting then it was up to them.

I’ve been good!

A submissive girl I’d known a while ago had been coy about swallowing, but it had been clear that she was only playing. She’d wanted to pretend to be virginal and to be smacked across the arse and told what to do.

So I’d spanked her bottom and then held her nose pinched closed until she swallowed and showed me a clean tongue. And we’d moved on to all the things that flowed from that.

In bdsm we’re all supposed to have talked about our limits beforehand, listing all the things we don’t want to do. A submissive who has a physical or psychological barrier about swallowing come is supposed to tell the dom in advance. Then he can check whether he should avoid coming in her mouth, or if he just needs to make sure he has tissues and a glass of water handy.

There are also some people in bdsm who feel that if a submissive doesn’t mention a limit beforehand then it’s not a limit. I’ve never felt things are that simple. No-one’s perfect, not even submissives, and they can forget important things that they really ought to have told a dom before playing.

The girl I’d smacked had said something like, “you don’t seriously think I’m going to swallow your silly old come, do you?” She tended to talk like that once she’d dropped a couple of levels into submission. So it hadn’t been hard to tell that she was just bratting, and that she expected me to subdue her.

With Svitlana I had no idea if she had a serious issue about swallowing. We hadn’t discussed anything beforehand. That kept coming up as a problem.

She spoke in the whiny tone sometimes adopted by submissives who think they’ve gone unspanked for too long. At least that was my first reaction. Of course, her speech was affected by the wish neither to swallow nor dribble. She was speaking with her mouth full, and she’d been told not to do that by authorities higher than mine. Her mom, for starters.

So I didn’t repeat the command, or threaten the pallor of her bottom. Actually, it was a good question.

So I focussed on Svitlana and her mouth. She was trying hard, sucking strongly and keeping me deep, and careful to keep her teeth out of the way. And she pressed her cunt on my left knee, like a soft wet fruit, and rode me for her own pleasure. I began to move my knee to stay with her, keeping the ball of the knee pressed against her pubic bone, the way she’d said her women lovers did.

When I had her rhythm right Svitlana closed her eyes, and sped up slightly. She used her hand to keep me held, because she couldn’t take me as deep in her mouth as she’d started. If she moved deeper into submission with me, I’d growl a command – “keep my cock deep, girl” – and smack her face to make it memorable, but for now I was content.

Since she had her eyes closed, I sat up a little and watched her. I loved the crease where her white thigh met her hips, and its movements when her bottom arched up a little before she pressed down on my knee again.

She was going to come within a minute or two, so I grabbed her hair and held her harder than before, fucking her mouth and throat, not over-fast but hard, letting her breathe when I pulled back, but not concerned about her when I thrust forward, and making the noise that I currently can’t help making – like the village idiot being tickled – when I’m about to come. Until, growling and laughing with pleasure, I came in her.

Svitlana kept sucking while her mouth filled. She coughed once when some of my come must have reached her oesophagous, but I held her firmly until I’d finished.

She lost her focus on me a second or two later, working herself on my knee, now slippery with her own excitement, until she cried out and flopped on my knee like a caught fish.

I held and stroked my hands on her shoulders, saying “good girl, good girl, Svitlana.”

She was only partly a submissive, and she certainly wasn’t mine, but I hoped she liked being told that she was good. Anyway, I wasn’t thinking much, and I was simply saying what I felt. She was good.

Some time later, Svitlana looked up. She still held my come in her mouth. She said, “tissue, I need to spit. Tissue?”

I said without thinking what I’d still have said if I’d thought it through. She was mine enough just then. I felt slightly, absurdly, indignant that she’d even asked. So I used the command voice, with the unmistakeable hint of ‘or else’. “No. Absolutely not. You swallow. All of it. Right now.”

I was thinking about some of those issues, while Svitlana sucked and petted my cock. I realised that worrying about the politics of all the actions that had led to her sucking my cock was insulting. She deserved my full attention and I was being a fool to give anything less. I stopped thinking foolishly. And stopped thinking at all.

On the one hand, I had taken Svitlana through bdsm consent 101, and explained about safe words and stopping whenever she felt uncomfortable. She’d agreed, and told me that she knew about safe words.

That should have meant that anything that I did was okay if she didn’t safeword. But it never really means that. Especially with someone who had found herself confronting submission, and bdsm’s rules and ethics, for the first time. She was excited and enjoying herself, but not really sure of her ground. She wasn’t sure what she could refuse.

She hadn’t liked her spanking all that much. She wasn’t angry with me for spanking her. It was just something we’d tried, and we found that it hadn’t done much for her.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like being hurt. When I’d squeezed her nipples, she’d wanted more, until I pressed as hard as I could and turned them like taps. That had worked ecstatically well, but it had to have hurt more than the fairly careful spanking I’d given her. Some things work, and some things just don’t.

But I’d used the fact that she hadn’t liked being spanked to shorten the discussion about whether she was going to suck my cock. She’d rewarded me thoroughly for that piece of bad behaviour.

If I’d thought that she’d take the threat to spank her seriously, then I’d have been a bully, not a dom. I didn’t feel that her consent covered me to do things she didn’t enjoy, once I’d been shown or told that she didn’t like them.

That applied only because she was new to these things. Of course it’s different between doms and more experienced submissives. If I can find something that an experienced submissive doesn’t like, I’ll use it. It lets her feel she’s not in control. If everything is too good, the submissive can start to think the dom is serving her. She doesn’t want that.

But in Svitlana’s case, I could threaten to spank her not because of her consent but because we’d laughed a lot, including at me. She could enjoy the threat, and the sense that she was sucking me because she’d be punished if she didn’t, while at the same time she knew that the punishment was a phantom: it would never exist.

You can’t reduce consent to a few rules. It’s still complicated even after formal consent is given. It’s a dance of advances and retreats.

So she said, “There are dykes who’ll do you. They’ll bring you off with their hands, they’ll lick you till you come. Or they might put their knee, yeah, there. And kind of pulse you while they squeeze your, uh, breasts.”

“And that knee thing would get you off, would it?”

“Um… It has done. No, stop it! I’m trying to tell you something. Anyway, they’re stone cold dykes because they don’t let you touch them. They get your clothes off and they get you off, but they keep their clothes on and you don’t do anything to them, and they don’t come. Not with you, I mean me.”

“Idiot. Silly man. Oh. Ah-huh. There might be a bit more, you know.” I leaned back and let her stroke her handful of soft cock. She was right. It wasn’t completely soft any more. “Okay, but you came in me because you fucked me. That’s physiology. But I didn’t get to fuck you; you never let me. You controlled me – that was interesting, by the way; that was good. I loved it. But I never controlled you. I lost it completely, I don’t think I knew the bed was here, I don’t think I even knew who I was. But you didn’t lose it at all, ever. You were completely in control of yourself. You stayed cold. You see?”

“Well, maybe. but I like being in charge. That’s sexy, for me. So of course I was getting off.”

“Yes. Up to a point.” My cock stirred, and staggered upright, just able to lift its own weight, as she said that. So she gave her attention to stroking it, and repeated, “up to a point”, over and over. I relaxed and let her, but eventually, half hard, I took her hand and stopped her.

She smiled, as if she’d won her point. “See what I mean? You have to stay in control. It’s okay. It’s just … I can’t see how you can have as good a time as I’m having.”

“Like this. Suck my cock.”

“Just like that? That’s not a very romantic thing to say.”

“Suck my cock right now, or I’ll spank you till your arse is the colour of a stop sign.”

“I didn’t really like it, much, when you spanked me.”

“Then if you don’t want another spanking, you’d better…” And her mouth, warm and moist and sweetly soft, enveloped my cock. “Ahhh.” I wouldn’t have spanked her, since she hadn’t given me permission to do things she didn’t like. But I did know that she liked to be ordered to do things.

So I made myself comfortable, pushing a little deeper and resting one hand on the back of her head, exactly because a gentleman doesn’t do that. Because I guessed she’d like me not to be a gentleman. I thought, as her head bobbed steadily, that I’d won something, though not necessarily the argument.

As I’ve mentioned, Svitlana turned out not to like being spanked all that much, though she gave it a fair trial. But she liked other things. She liked having her nipples ill-treated. At first I did the nipple mistreatment with my fingers.

But later, I had her hands tied to the end of the bed, and her ankles held apart by a spreader bar, and I attached a pair of nipple clamps to her breasts, because I needed my hands to hold under her bottom while I lifted and licked her.

I’m not going to write about most of that night, because it was just sex. We said very little during it. I don’t think that we thought much, either. I know I didn’t. So there’s not so much to say about it, except that it was good. It was a gold and silver night, honey and lightning.

So we were tired when we collapsed, some time that was more like morning than it was night.

We lay together comfortably, satisfied with each other. And Svitlana mused, “You’re like a stone cold lesbian.”

And I said, “I have no idea what that means, but I bet I’m not.”

So we’re back to the beginning, the point where I started this story. It does continue.

Svitlana came, seconds after I’d given that command. Eventually she stirred and looked up, and found me looking at her. I couldn’t stop myself looking at her. She reached up and stroked my arm. “”I came because you told me to. You told me to come and I did as I was told.” She shook her head. “Fuck, that’s weird. That is really weird, Jaime.”

Actually it wasn’t strange at all. By the time I’d told her to come she was going to come. She’d have had real trouble disobeying that order. But I said, “You’re just naturally obedient. You like to do as you’re told. You didn’t know that. And now you do.”

“Hmmm.” She sounded sceptical. Sensible woman.

“Yes, you are. You’re going to obey me when I tell you to get over my knee. Because I’m going to spank you.”

“You think I’ve been bad? And you seriously think I’m going to let you punish me, if you think I’m bad?”

Of course, she’d held still while I smacked her inner thigh, and I’d claimed that was a punishment. But that was an orgasm ago, so perhaps it didn’t count. She didn’t think of herself as someone who let people punish her.

So I said, truthfully, “No, I just think you’ve got a glorious ass.”

“Huh.” She scowled at me, then smiled. “Well, in that case, I suppose. I’ll let you smack my glorious ass. Since it’s glorious. If you’ll give me a knee to get over.”

She slid over me, and I worked my way across the bed, pulling her with me, so I could rest my back against the wall. And Svitlana perched, bottom up on my thighs.

I patted her upper thighs. “Yeah, glorious. Best ass ever. And now I want it warm and pink. Or maybe red.”

Reader, I looked Svitlana in her eyes, and held that gaze while I brought my hand down, hard, on her inner thigh. She kept herself still, and though she gasped when my hand landed, and frowned and sucked at her lower lip, she did not move.

We watched each other’s faces while she experienced the sharp impact and then the after-warmth of having been deliberately smacked, and I enjoyed the memory of the cool firmness of her left thigh as my hand had landed. I held that memory in my hand.

She still stared at me, a little afraid, not of the potential pain of anything I might do, but of the strangeness of her own response to being out of her own control and under mine. I smiled at last, and Svitlana gasped again, relieved. I said, “good girl.”

She still had her thighs open as wide as she could present herself, and I touched her cunt, at the lowest edge of her lips, and stroked upwards. She was wet. My fingers swam in aroused Svitlana. She shivered slightly, wanting more, and I stroked her again.

Svitlana let her head fall back onto the pillow, and gave up her body to my stroking fingers, . After a while, she put her heels back on the bed and lifted herself, making her cunt and her other entrance available to me. In response I sped up a little, and Svitlana’s face took on that tenseness that said she was about to come. I let my finger slip all the way into her, and said, “nearly”.

Svitlana only moaned. She’d closed her eyes. She was only a second away.

With my other hand I smacked her right thigh. Not lightly; the sound was like a starter’s pistol, and her thigh rippled under the blow. I could see my hand[print, white against white. In seconds it would be a bright, clear red. Svitlana made a high-pitched noise, like a howl. There was a word in that howl. It was, “Harder!”

I smacked her left thigh again, as hard as I could, then put the hand that had slapped her against her mouth. “Now,” I said, “come.”

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